


Missing

by jigoloharmejiddo



Series: The Sister and Her Ghoul [6]
Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Choose Your Own Ghoul™, F/M, The Sister and Her Ghoul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jigoloharmejiddo/pseuds/jigoloharmejiddo





	Missing

The Nameless Ghoul dreams of her. In his mind’s eye, he sees her.

He sees her that one day she left the bathroom door open. He sees her standing behind the glass walls of the shower, among the cloudy mist produced by the hot water. He stands in the doorway, observing from afar how the water falls against her taut skin. How the droplets of water glide across her every curve, from her pert nipples to the slope of her bum. He watches her lather the soap on her skin, watching the bubbles that form, cling to her. He watches her hands move across her body, from her shoulders, to her chest, down to her legs, and how he wishes it were his hands instead.

He stirs in his sleep, he knows he is dreaming, but it feels so real. He feels the warmth of the mist, the humidity emanating from the room before him; as well as the twitch in his groin. His deep sleep becomes shallower and shallower, as he continues to stay within his dream, the sensations becoming all the more real. He watches as she roams her hands all over herself, rinsing off the suds from her skin. He wishes it were his hands instead. The longer he watches her, the stronger the passion from deep within his belly grows. He feels the sensation rush outwards across his entire body, gooseflesh rising through this skin.

He is awake now.

The Ghoul opens his eyes, seeing nothing but red. He lay on his stomach, face buried in his pillow; a pale body tangled in a sea of sheets the colour of blood. He curses to no one, he did not want to leave that dream, and the stiffness resting against his belly proved that.

He rolls onto his back, he stares at the dark ceiling and the darkness merely stared back. He misses her, the three days that she’d been gone felt like three centuries.

He screws his eyes shut, trying to recapture the sensations that his dream brought upon him, trying to capture her in his mind once more. Slowly, he relaxes again, his body almost drifting off to sleep but more images flashed in his mind.

He saw her now, in his bed; her hair splayed across his sheets, her body writhing in sweet agony. Beads of sweat roll off her skin, her eyes clenched shut as she cried for him, cried out his name, begging. The way her voice cracked, the way she moaned and screamed, it was the sweetest music that ever blessed his ears. Her voice grew louder and louder.. Crying, begging..

The Ghoul’s eyes fly open. He looks around, as if to make sure it was just a dream, but he didn’t want it to be. It felt so real, the sound of her voice directly meeting his ears. He let out a frustrated groan, his hands forming fists and rubbing his eyes. He drops his hands to his stomach, where one mindlessly finds its way to his crotch. He lets out a sigh as his hand finds his sensitive member. He closes his eyes as he begins to lazily stroke himself.

Fuck it. He thought.

He reaches over to his bedside table, pulling out one of the drawers and extracting something from it. He slams it shut before settling back into his pillows. In his hand was a piece of cloth, a souvenir. He pushes it to his nose and inhales deeply, taking in the sweet, sweet scent of her. He chuckles, remembering how much it annoyed her that he always somehow ended up keeping her underwear whenever they had their little rendezvous.

He inhales once again, his other hand pumping away as he begins to picture her. He imagines himself between her thighs, the scent of the underwear triggering memories of how she tasted, this tongue lapping up her sweet juices. The feel of her throbbing clit against his tongue, and how she moaned his name every time he’d meet it. The thought alone was enough to send him over the edge, but he won’t settle just yet. The Ghoul once again rummaged through his drawer, finding a bottle of lubricant and squeezing its contents onto his palm. He settles back into position, pushing the underwear to his face again and meeting his lubricated hand to his member. He begins to stroke himself once more.

In his mind he pictures her once again, this time with her wet mouth around his cock. The magic that was her tongue twirling around his head, tracing every vein; teasing and pleasing. He rubbed his thumb over the head of his slick cock, remembering how much she liked to tease him, how she would place kisses on his head making him groan from beneath her. In those moments, she had him at the palm of her hand, free to do as she pleased, in control of his desires.

He continues to work his hand along his shaft, each stroke feeding the fire within him. He moves his hand faster now, his senses overwhelmed with lust and passion, all he wants to do now is come but more images flash in his mind. As he effortlessly glides his hand over his cock, he sees her once again, laying on her back, her beautiful round breasts bouncing in time with his thrusts. He hears her cries once again, her aching voice calling his name, begging him for release.

It’s so real; with each cry she eggs him on, making him work harder, for himself and for her. The mounting pressure builds from within him, he can almost feel her fingers digging into his hips. He presses her underwear into his face, inhaling deeply. _It is so real._ His senses are completely overwhelmed, her scent overpowering him with the pure lust that continues to build up inside him. The line between fantasy and reality begins to blur, and with a few final strokes and her voice ringing in his ears, he comes.

His body becomes rigid as he spills himself all over his torso and his sheets. The hand to his face goes limp and drops to his chest, where he bunches the underwear into his fist, while the other continues to lightly stroke himself, as if to make sure every last bit of his frustration and passion is finally released. His eyes are closed, and he laughs.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she has quite the hold on him.


End file.
